


It must be Love

by KaizokuHime



Series: Superbatbang prompts [4]
Category: DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: BRUCE HAS FEELINGS, Bruce is confused, Clark being too damn attractive, Dense!Bruce, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, He's probably demiromantic, Injury, M/M, Sudden realization, concerned!Clark, someone help him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16692247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaizokuHime/pseuds/KaizokuHime
Summary: Bruce needs to be “rescued” from his crush on Clark. Or, Bruce's mid-life crisis is having FEELINGS for the first time.Written for the day 4 prompt: Rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write this as a one-shot but I'm always too impatient to find out what you guys think. Enjoy!

It happened during a routine visit to the Daily Planet. He’d made a habit of visiting every so often to have regular contact with Clark out of the uniform, in a way that would both seem normal and would explain further interactions between the two men outside of a press meeting or Gala. It was so normalized now that his presence warranted a single distracted glance for most of the reporters. 

He meandered his way to Clark’s desk and casually leaned against it, waiting for Clark to come back from a coffee break. Glancing at the desk, he let out an involuntary huff of laughter at all the batman paraphernalia scattered around. It was an unusual amount of black for a man who loved bright primary colors enough to make them the theme of his uniform. 

“Mr. Wayne!” Clark called over, “I see you’ve already made yourself at home. Would you like some coffee?”

Ah, count on Clark to notice he’d come by and already prepared him some coffee. Alfred had been trying to wean him off of it recently, but it’d been a constant and reliable ally in the fight against crime (and sleep) for too long now. Besides, he enjoyed the taste of a good cup of coffee. 

Bruce accepted the mug gratefully and took a cautious sip. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease at the perfect taste, just a dash of milk and a hint of sugar. When drinking it for the caffeine he would drink it straight black, but when relaxing he liked to indulge a little. And Clark had an uncanny way of making the coffee exactly the way he wanted it at the specific time. Which was truly impressive given the probably thousands of cups of coffee he had given Bruce when taking a break on patrol, on watch duty at the Watchtower, and on Bruce’s visits to the Planet or Clark’s apartment. 

His best friend really cared about him. Bruce deeply cared about Clark as well. 

Wait, deeply? Why did that ambiguous language make him a little nervous. He was just thinking about Clark, his best friend, his partner in arms, somehow both the brave co-leader of the League and the shy, bumbling reporter, a man whose smiles shine like the sun-

Ba-bump.

Wh-what the hell was that?! Why did his heart just stutter? Now his face was feeling warm for some reason. And instead of falling back to its regular rhythm his heartbeat is speeding up. 

What is going on?!

…

It’s only after he regains his senses that he even recognised that they had been gone for what was probably several minutes. He even had coffee running down his face, having been in the middle of taking a sip when he had started experiencing those confusing responses to his thoughts. He hurriedly set the mug down and started frantically searching for something to clean his face, only to have a familiar, gentle hand press something against his lips and begin wiping away the mess.

“Hey, are you alright Bruce?” Clark asked in a quiet voice. “Are you injured anywhere? Under attack? You were frozen there for a good four minutes.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” Bruce forced out, his brain stupidly focused on replaying the sensation of Clark so tenderly caring for him, the spit second of skin-to-skin contact. Instead of the usual calm he felt when interacting with his friend (when they weren’t arguing), his heart was refusing to calm down and the fluttering sensation in his stomach was back. Time to make a tactical retreat before he spaces out again. 

“It’s ok, Clark, I’m fine. I’m sorry but I need to get back to Gotham.” He says before hurrying away, probably a little faster than is polite. Clark looks after him, obviously concerned, but lets him go without comment. 

\--

Several days later he’s mostly convinced himself that the incident was a fluke, perhaps an effect of sleep deprivation, though he wasn’t particularly low on sleep at the time. 

He gets away with this line of thinking until that afternoon at the League meeting. His speech on new updates for the Watchtower goes smoothly, but he gets increasingly distracted the longer the meeting draws on. His eyes keep wandering to the Man of Steel across the table from him and he finds himself noticing things that he’d never really paid attention to, like the smoothness of his hands despite their strength, the length of his eyelashes, visible even from this distance. His lips, a perfect cupid’s bow, were very distracting; when Superman was talking, when he was drinking, and especially when he licked or bit them out of nervousness or concentration. 

He’d never really understood people’s obsession with other people’s lips, but now all he wanted to do was find out if they were as soft as they looked. 

He hurriedly snaps himself out of his contemplation of Kal’s lips. Luckily he was able to keep his vitals under control- until the other man licked his lips especially lasciviously and Bruce could no longer think about what he was trying to do. 30 seconds of staring later Superman, co-leader of the Justice League, stuck out his tongue and then grinned. He’d say it was unbearably childish behavior for a figure of authority if it wasn’t so adorable. 

Great, now he’s utterly charmed and Clark had clearly caught him … observing him. He resolutely looked anywhere but him for the rest of the meeting. His cheeks betrayed him by continuing to burn long after the meeting was over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This was originally going to be two chapters but I decided to split it into three instead. 
> 
> Also, this title is from True Love by P!nk. The song doesn't quite fit this fic but it's definitely a type of relationship these two could have.

Two instances of losing control of himself, along his inexplicable reactions, around Clark was bad, but he could still attempt to rationalize it to himself and put off examining his reactions. Just two iterations can still be a coincidence.But then it happened again. 

Eight days after The Incident at the League meeting Batman was patrolling Gotham when some idiots decided it was a brilliant idea to try to rob the bank in the middle of the night, overconfident that their ability and firepower would be enough to fight off the Batman and any sleep deprived security guards. Either they were new to Gotham or he needed to crack down and remind the criminals who this city belongs to.

It was fairly standard really, compared to the alien fleet he had helped fight off the other day with the League this should have been a walk in the park. Though he was always cautious to never underestimate his enemies just in case. 

He easily ambushed and dispatched the small groups that had split off to guard the entrances while the main group was busy gathering money from the vaults. But when he approached the vault full of criminals his boots failed to muffle the noise of his movement as he had expected, especially with all the broken glass scattered about, and he was noticed. Ten guns swiveled to point in his direction and started firing. He was quick to dodge and roll away but unfortunately his suit failed him once again and one of the bullets found a seam in his leg armor, piercing through his left thigh. 

He was obviously in need of a new batsuit. 

He hid in a dark alcove nearby and quickly tore off a strip of his cape and bandaged his left leg before tossing a smoke bomb into the room. While the men were distracted and confused he dove back into the fray, and knocked the men unconscious. Only the leader of the group was left when the smoke cleared. He showed true leadership and bravery by promptly fainting after Batman’s first menacing step towards him. Him and the rest of his men were left tied up at the scene of the crime for the police to find. 

When he used his grappling hook to glide to a nearby building he was unsurprised to find Superman floating nearby. Bruce’s heartbeat had skipped a beat when he was caught unprepared and he knew a certain Kryptonian tended to listen to his heartbeat while he was patrolling. The grunt of pain he made when he was shot practically guaranteed that Kal would show up. 

“I came by to see if you’re ok,” Superman said, while holding up his hands in an I-come-in-peace fashion. “I heard ten guns go off and you actually made a sound of pain. And we both know how stubborn you can be about acknowledging your injuries.”

“I’m fine,” Batman groused, but had to take it back when faced with Superman’s disbelieving gaze and raised eyebrow. “Ok, I might have sustained an injury. I’ll just head back to the cave and have Alfred take care of it.”

“You have a bullet hole through your leg B, I’ll take you back myself. You could injure yourself further if you keep moving around. You can be free of me once I’ve delivered you personally to Alfred.”

“I don’t think so Superman,” he growled, eyes narrowed, stubbornness and pride overruling the logic of Kal’s solution. He hated how useless and helpless he felt while being carried around and he was especially unkeen to get to close to him after what happened the last time they’d had close personal contact. 

“Oh, stop being so stubborn! If I carry you your injury won’t get worse and it will be faster. I promise to not let anyone see me carrying you.” He was pouting, fucking pouting, and it wasn’t fair, Batman did not give in to pouting… but he was so adorable with his lip stuck out and his starry puppy dog eyes… It was much more convincing than it should have been. Even though he really didn’t want to be in this situation he gave in and let the Man of Steel pick him up and carry him.

Bruce had always marveled at how easily Superman carried things despite their size and weight, but he felt a shiver of something else run through him right then, as he was picked up as easily as a feather. And he was right in wanting to avoid this situation, he was much more distracted than usual being held so closely in Clark’s arms. His scent, which he’d never particularly noticed before, was of sunshine and the spring breeze and he caught himself inhaling deeper than usual in order to properly remember and appreciate it. 

As promised the quickly arrived at their destination and he was quickly set down on a medical cot. Bruce tried to tell himself he didn’t miss that warms and safety of those arms, plus the close up view of those kissable lips. He was just irritated that he’d once again had to be carried like a damsel in distress. 

Yes, it was a simple emotion like irritation. Not this hot and twisting yearning centered around his heart. The ache grew the longer he looked at the man, but before, when he was in his arms, he had been overwhelmed by the calm rightness and simple pleasure of the moment. 

He was honestly relieved when Alfred arrived and Clark took his leave, though that didn’t stop Bruce from watching every moment of his retreat, even continuing to gaze at the surveillance cameras long after he had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments last chapter! Please let me know what you thought of this one. ^v^


End file.
